Chapter Twenty-Seven
March picked up the two mugs of chocolate and tipped the remains down the sink. He’d rinsed the mugs and put them in the dishwasher before the cry burst through the blockage in his throat. He clung on to the sink and stood with his head bowed and shoulders shaking. It was hard to convince himself he’d done the right thing when Caleb was no longer beside him.
He could have kept quiet and Caleb would never have known, but he wished he’d told him the truth right at the start because March hadn’t wanted there to be secrets between them. Maybe he should have talked to him about finding Jasim, but March had wanted to make things right in Caleb’s world without further worrying him. He thought about the distress on Caleb’s face as he stood in the hall, the look of betrayal in his eyes, and March’s fingers tightened on the sink. He shouldn’t have let him leave.
And how was I supposed to stop him? The worst thing to do would be to force Caleb into anything, especially physically.
Maybe they weren’t meant to be. Maybe they’d clung to each other because of what happened. But March didn’t want to believe that. He pulled out his phone.
He’d guessed Caleb wouldn’t answer but he left a message. “I’m sorry. You told me you didn’t need me to mend you and I didn’t listen. But I need you to mend me. Please come home.” There was a lot more he wanted to say, but he ended the call.
March lay on the couch wondering what to do. If Liam’s brother, Derry Fitzpatrick, was the stalker, he was dangerous and the police ought to be told. But that meant opening up Caleb’s past.
If the detective agency came back with an address, what was he going to do? Go and talk to Fitzpatrick? He’d deny everything.
Maybe he could get a sample of the guy’s DNA, give it anonymously to the police and hope they could at least connect him to the attack on Mike. But would the police, with no other details, even follow up?
I shouldn’t have let Caleb leave. I should have taken his car keys.
March pushed to his feet and took the laptop from his bag. He typed in the words Liam Fitzpatrick…caretaker…suicide…brother and waited.
Caleb drove to Jamie’s without calling him. If Jamie wasn’t in, then he’d wait. Caleb could have found a B and B, but he wanted to be with someone. He’d trusted March with the biggest secret of his life, one that, if revealed, would hurt someone else, and March had lied to him. There was no way Jasim would think March didn’t know what he’d done.
Why did I tell him? Caleb gripped the wheel so tightly his hands hurt. Yeah, he knew why he’d told him, but he’d made a mistake. He should have taken that secret to his grave. He should have taken all his secrets to the grave. He would have if he hadn’t met March.
Jamie opened the door dressed up in his clubbing gear, eye makeup on. He looked down at the bag in Caleb’s hand and groaned.
“Can I stay the night?” Caleb asked.
“I was hoping to get lucky. It’s a bit of a mood killer when I bring a guy back and there’s already a cute one sleeping on my couch.”
“Please, Jamie.”
“Oh fuck it, fine.” He pulled the door wider. “What happened this time?”
“I just need some space.”
Jamie put his hands on his hips. “That’s all I’m going to get? No juicy details?”
“I’m exhausted.”
“You look a bit pasty. You want me stay in?”
Caleb was touched by the offer, though he knew what Jamie expected him to say. “No, you go out. I’m fine. You over Paul?”
“So over him. God, he really fancied you though. If I see him, are you interested?”
“No.” There was only one person who interested Caleb.
Once Jamie left, Caleb settled on the couch. He replayed everything that had been said and done and considered whether he’d overreacted. He should have at least talked to March, not just slammed out, particularly because that might have put March in danger. What if the stalker paid him a visit, left another rose? How did this bastard know when Caleb had a falling-out with a guy?
He took out his phone. One message from March. He listened to it, took a deep breath and phoned him.
“Caleb. Are you okay?”
“No, of course I’m not okay.”
March sighed. “I mean safe. Are you safe?”
“Yes, I’m safe.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“I know. I understand why you went to Jasim, but you shouldn’t have. I understand why you lied, but you shouldn’t have done that either.”
“Come home. Please.”
“I need to be on my own tonight. I just wanted to tell you to be careful. Lock the doors, the windows. Put on that alarm you never seem to use.”
“Why?”
“Because…you’re not allowed to hurt me.” Caleb wondered if he’d understand.
“Oh shit.”
“I shouldn’t have left. I’m sorry.”
“Fuck it, where are you? Let me come to you.”
“Not tonight. I’ll come back tomorrow.”
“Caleb?”
“What?”
“I won’t go swimming under the ice.”
Caleb ended the call with a smile on his face.
There was no way he’d be able to sleep. His mind raced. He grabbed the remote, put on the TV and groaned when he saw what was on offer. He pushed to his feet and ran his finger down Jamie’s stack of DVDs, then picked one at random. Dirty Dancing. When he pressed the button he thought would open the DVD player, instead it started to play and the screen was filled with a naked Jamie lying on the bed, tugging at his cock. Caleb winced and switched it off. He took out his lenses and threw them away. He’d been premature in ordering clear ones.
He was dozing when he heard the door open. There was no giggling from Jamie so Caleb assumed he hadn’t picked anyone up. He kept his eyes closed because he didn’t want to put up with a barrage of conversation, but felt a draft of air over his face.
“Hey, wake up.”
Not Jamie. Caleb opened his eyes to see Paul smiling down at him.
What the hell?
“Jamie said you were on your own.”
Oh fuck it. “Not really.” Caleb pushed himself to a sitting position, wincing as his back stung.
Paul looked around. “I don’t see anyone else.”
“I was just about to head home.” Caleb stood and pulled down his sweater.
Crap. He was so much smaller than Paul.
Paul stepped into his space and every hair on Caleb’s body tingled. That lemony scent. Where have I…?
“There’s a party down at the marina. A room above the bar. Birthday party. Jamie told me to persuade you to come. He says no one there can dance.”
“I’m not in the mood.”
“Go on. It’ll be fun. I’ve got my car outside. Jamie told me you’re a really good dancer. I’ve two left feet, me, but I do like to watch.”
Something in the way he said “watch” made Caleb tremble.
“What did you go to prison for?” Caleb asked and wished he hadn’t.
“Jamie been talking? I didn’t need to tell him but I believe in being honest. Theft. I did my time twice and I won’t be going back. You ever been locked up?”
“No.” Caleb could hear warning sirens screaming in his head.
“If you’re not going to come, call Jamie and tell him because he’s going to give me grief if I don’t turn up with you.”
Caleb wondered if he was overreacting, seeing problems where there were none. But right at that moment, all he wanted was to be with March, sorting out this mess, not running away from it. He’d run from London and trouble had followed him. Maybe it was time to stand still.
“Please call Jamie.”
Caleb called him.
“Hi,�
� Jamie shouted.
It was hard to hear with the loud music blaring in the background.
“Did you send Paul to get me?”
“Yeah. Gave him a key. Thought he’d cheer you up. I told you he was always going on about you.”
“I don’t feel like a party. Paul insisted I call to tell you I’m not coming.” Caleb’s heart pounded and his grip on the phone tightened as he gave Paul a shrug and nodded toward the door.
“Got a bit of a headache,” Caleb said.
If Paul didn’t leave, Caleb was going to scream at Jamie to call the police. But Paul did leave. Caleb locked the door and leaned back against it.
“Paul’s just left. What does he do for a living?”
“Electrician.”
Caleb sucked in a breath. That was okay but… “Did he make that film of you that’s in your DVD player?”
“Shit. You weren’t supposed to see that. Though my arse looks good, doesn’t it?”
“Did he?”
“Yes.”
Something bubbled in the dark of Caleb’s stomach, the seed of an idea beginning to germinate, pushing its way toward the light.
“Do you know his surname?” Caleb asked.
“Stevens. Why?”
Maybe nothing, maybe something. “What did he go to prison for?”
“Nothing violent he said. He’s rough but he’s not nasty. Just try a date with him. He’s good in bed.”
“He dumped you. Why are you suddenly being nice?”
“Found someone better.” Jamie giggled.
“Are you really at a party at the marina?”
“Yep, it’s great. Come on. It’ll do you good to get out.”
“No, I really don’t want to come.”
Caleb put his phone in his pocket. Some pieces of the puzzle fit, others didn’t. Paul’s interest in him was alarming, yet Jamie trusted him and he’d left when Caleb asked him to. Was Paul Liam’s brother? Or just a random guy who fancied him? Every time Caleb thought Paul was nothing to worry about, another concern crept in. He chewed the edge of a fingernail.
If Paul was Liam’s brother, what did he want? To know how Caleb got out, how Liam died? If he was an unrelated stalker, had he killed Simon, tried to kill Mike? Paul had been at Victor’s party. Jamie had said that Paul had left him that night and then gone back. The coward in Caleb kept him in the apartment, but his anxiety started him pacing.
He wanted March. He wanted to be sure March was safe. For all he knew, Paul was at March’s place right now. In the end, the fear of anything happening to March was what pulled him out of Jamie’s flat. He left a just-in-case note for Jamie, picked up his bag and crept back to where he’d left his car.
Only for Paul to appear out of nowhere. Fuck.
The hard punch in Caleb’s stomach took him by surprise. He doubled over gasping, knowing he needed to run but unable to make his legs work. Even as he tried to get moving, he felt a sharp prick in his neck and the world went black.
March jerked awake from where he’d fallen asleep on the couch, aware something had disturbed him. Light poured in through the window and he realized he’d spent all night downstairs. He sat up and checked his phone. There was no message from Caleb, but there was from the detective agency.
March found himself looking at a photo of Derry Fitzpatrick. A guy who looked no more than five years older than he was. He had a shaven head, a fleshy face and he looked mean.
A ring at the doorbell sent him racing to answer it. He’d convinced himself it was Caleb, so when March pulled the door open and saw a middle-aged guy he didn’t recognize, he sagged.
“I was beginning to wonder if you were in,” said the guy. “This is for you.” He held out a single red rose.
March took a step back but spotted a florist’s van parked a little way down the drive.
“Who sent it?” March asked. “Is there a card?”
“Yeah. Take it.” The man waggled the rose.
“What does it say?”
The guy rolled his eyes and turned the card over. “I’m the only one allowed to hurt him.”
“Oh fuck. Can you trace who sent it? An email address? Bank details?”
“My daughter took the order. The guy came into the shop yesterday. He paid cash. I did wonder about that message, which is why I’m delivering it and not my wife. Is there some problem?”
“Can you call your daughter and ask her what the guy looked like?”
The man hesitated and then took out his phone. “Hi, Lindy. The guy who paid for that single rose, what did he look like?
“Uh-huh…big, no hair. Okay, thanks.”
“Wait,” March said. “Can I email her a photo?”
A few minutes later, March had his answer. Derry Fitzpatrick, Liam’s brother, was the one sending the roses, was likely the one who’d killed Simon and stabbed Mike. As the bewildered florist drove off, March called Caleb. There was no answer.
“Caleb. Call me as soon as possible. Even better, come over here. I need to talk to you. It’s urgent.”
Back in the house, he sat and read through the information the detective agency had sent. Derry Fitzpatrick had a dead brother called Liam. Derry served time in prison—first for theft and then for manslaughter. Almost three and half years. Shit. The reason nothing had happened after the death of Simon was because this guy had gone to prison. He tried Caleb again and again, growing more and more concerned when he didn’t answer.
What the fuck am I going to do? Even if he contacted the police and told them everything, what could they do? But he couldn’t just sit there.
His phone rang again and he almost dropped it. The number was unknown.
“Hello?”
“Is that March?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t know me. My name’s Jamie.”
March exhaled. “Caleb’s friend. He’s talked about you. Is he with you? Can I speak to him?”
“He’s not here. He was here last night. I didn’t get back until this morning and I found a note. I sent Paul to persuade Caleb to come to a party, but he didn’t want to. Paul didn’t come back to the party, but I didn’t think anything of it until this morning and I saw this note. Caleb said I was to call you and if he wasn’t there with you, you were to worry.”
“Oh fuck.” March slumped against the wall.
“What the hell’s happening?”
“Where does Paul live?”
“Dorchester. But I never went to his place.”
“Give me his phone number.”
March stored it in his phone.
“Paul really liked Caleb,” Jamie said, a catch in his voice. “He was always asking about him when he was with me. I think he wanted him at Victor’s party but Caleb left, so he made do with me. And that night Mike was attacked, Paul persuaded me to say he was with me all night but he wasn’t. Did he stab Mike? Fuck it. Why are you supposed to worry? What’s happening? Is Caleb all right?”
“I think Paul’s abducted him. He knew Caleb from a long time before, but Caleb didn’t know him. Can you think where Paul might have gone? Friends? Places he liked?”
“He has a boat. I saw him on it in the marina. It was after he dumped me so I didn’t wave to him or anything. Course, it might not be his boat but…”
“Know what it’s called?” March was searching for his car keys.
“Sparky.”
“Thanks. If you see Paul or Caleb, call me.”
March tried Paul’s number but there was no answer. He tried Caleb again and the phone rang out. A call to the harbour master told him he’d seen the boat leaving the marina an hour ago. March knew he was lucky the guy had noticed. He ran out to his car and drove straight to the lifeboat station.
Brian and Kev were in the office when he rushed in.
“Wha
t are you doing here?” Brian asked. “You’re not even on call.”
“Remember Caleb? I think he’s been abducted by a bloke in a boat called Sparky. The harbour master saw it leave the marina about an hour ago. I need to go after him.”
“Hang on,” Brian said. “What the hell’s happened?”
“There’s no time to explain. Ask the MCA for the authority to launch. If you don’t, I’m going anyway.”
“March! Calm down. You think he’s been abducted? I’m not asking for a launch from the Maritime and Coastguard Agency just because your boyfriend’s gone off with someone else.”
March shook his head and tried to unclench his fists. “It’s not that. It’s too complicated to explain without wasting time. I swear to you, Caleb is in danger. He’s on a vessel in UK waters and his life is in peril.” March wished he was wrong and was going to get into a shitload of trouble, but he didn’t think he was. He put his hands on Brian’s desk and stared straight at him. “I know the cost of taking out a boat, but I’m begging you. Please. Call.”
“Do the police know?” Brian asked.
“Not yet. Tell them.”
“I’ll go,” Kev said. “The two of us can manage the D class.”
Brian hesitated and then sighed. “Get your kit on while I call and if I get an emergency, you’ll have to divert.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Caleb lay inside the cabin of the cruiser, his hands fastened behind his back with what felt like a cable tie. He had no awareness of how he’d gotten onto a boat or how it could be morning already. He’d come round shivering with cold a few moments ago. There was no one else in the cabin but he could hear Paul up on deck. Hear someone.
Oh fuck. I’m going to die.
He pulled at the fastening around his wrists but he couldn’t get free. He lay on the floor, facing the steps that led to the deck. With a bit of wriggling he should be able to stand, though he wasn’t sure what that would gain him.
Before he could do anything, the engine cut off and Paul clattered down the stairs.
“Good, you’re awake. Must have got the dosage wrong.”
Oh shit. “What’s happening?” Caleb croaked.
Give Yourself Away Page 31
